Hosanna
by Tamer Lorika
Summary: Short moment between Poland and Lithuania. In space... SciFi AU written for LietPol Secret Santa @ LJ


**Umm hi. So... this was for the PolLiet secret santa exchange on LJ (which seems to never have happened) so I'm posting this here and I hope you find it and like it. I admit that when I saw the promt, for a SciFi AU I ran around screaming "I CAN'T DO THIS I CAN'T TO THIIIIS" because I'm more partial to fantasy, BUT. After an introduction to Firefly (THANK YOU POPPA DECKER) I'm marginally comfortable enough to ATTEMPT this. So... please enjoy?**

**Warnings: Excessive fluff and lack of real plot… And Feliks wearing no clothes. I just get the feeling that he sleeps in the nude. … orz**

The airlock hissed quietly open and the _thunk, thunk_ of heavy boots and the clink of metal - a buckle, a belt, a gun? - echoed around the crew's sleeping chamber. Toris, sleeping fitfully, jerked awake, automatically tightening his hold on the warm, bare body in his arms.

"Toris, its me," whispered Eduard, creeping over to the standard-issue hammock and peering into it in the dark. The sounds of peaceful slumber of the other members of the craft's crew filled the room, undisturbed as Eduard woke his friend.

Toris turned over to face him, blinking sleepily.

"Its your watch," said Eduard, looking as exhausted as Toris felt

Toris nodded, rubbing his eyes. He had fallen asleep in his uniform so that he wouldn't have to dress now, so he simply swung himself out of the hammock, careful not to jostle the still-sleeping Feliks. If Eduard had made a comment about the naked boy in Toris' bed, Toris would have mumbled something about a nightmare or sleepwalking - but Eduard didn't ask. He just nodded back at Toris and went to collapse into his own hammock.

The red-digit clock constantly running above the sleeping-chamber door read 1:09 AM. Toris slipped on his boots and clipped his respirator and a small G-force-regulator unit to his belt - pilot gear. Those on watch had to be ready to launch the swift, tiny defense craft if anything went amiss when they were on duty.

"Mm… LIet…" Feliks turned over in the hammock, making the supports creak slightly. "Y'leaving?"

"My watch" replied Toris quietly, wincing a little at the use of his nickname. He had been recruited from the Lietuvos Republika, a small satellite colony of the planet Muscovy. Apparently, Feliks thought it was amusing to refer to everyone by the place which they had being recruited from, although he didn't seem to have enough energy to say "Lietuvos" properly, so he shortened it to "Liet". Despite the fact that it irked Toris to no end, the Lietuanian had eventually forgiven the nickname. Toris, eventually, forgave Feliks a lot of things.

Feliks' slim white arm reached over the hammock edge as he grabbed at Toris' sleeve. Startled, Toris looked up, but Feliks had his face pressed into the fabric of the bed and he couldn't see the look on the little blonde's face.

Gently, Toris pried Feliks' fingers away from his sleeve, kissing the back of his hand before straightening up and checking his gear. "I'll see you at breakfast." With that, he ghosted out of the room, only the swish of the airlock marking his presence.

He tried not to let his boots click so much on the smooth metallic floors of the still, silent hallway. The lights were completely off; that was the only sign of the passage of day and night. To combat the lack of visibility, he ran his fingers along the wall, counting the grooves of the doors and panels and corners that told him where he was.

He had almost reached the bridge when his fingers hit an especially vast door-surface, and, recognizing that these were Captain Kirkland's chambers, he tried to muffle his footfalls even more. Kirkland was a corsair, the leader of the rest of this motley crew of misfits and runaways - and _not_ a morning person. Or at least, not a whatever-passed-as-morning-in-deep-space person. Toris could hear the soft snores (that would later be vehemently denied) of his captain, and crept on.

Turning a last corner, Toris found himself on the deserted bridge, a vast balcony that overlooked the now-empty control center of the ship. Toris leaned against the bridge railing and gazed into the endless night. Far-off stars - never closer no matter how many light-years they traveled - blinked owlishly back at him. Slowly, he scanned the dark fabric, doing his duty, checking for danger. His eyes rested on a solid mass, as small as the other stars, but unwavering and faintly pink.

Muscovy.

Toris couldn't stay still, so he made his way the thin, sleek ladder on the bridge's back wall, climbing confidently until he reached the tiny, loft-like space above. It was a small platform, barely wide enough to lay down in completely, surrounded by a half-sphere bubble of window; a panoramic view of the ocean of light and dark, a crow's nest.

Night watch wasn't really so bad, if he stayed up here. He sat down.

The ship, murmuring along on nightly auto-pilot, chugged closer to the red, shimmering planet of Muscovy. Toris stared out at the expanse still between the ship and its destination and felt himself slowly fading into the black.

Click.

Clack.

Click-clack shinkshinkshink _slip_.

"Kurwa!" A hissed curse.

Toris didn't turn around, even as he felt the loft become occupied by an rumpled and uninvited guest. He stared at the stars as Feliks flopped on the floor next to him, immediately laying his head in Toris' lap and closing his eyes.

"It was, like, _freezing_ without you," mumbled Feliks, an explanation in response to a question that had not been asked.

"You sleep naked," replied Toris. At least he was clothed now. Toris ran his fingers in the smaller's hair, and Feliks hummed happily, kissing Toris' thigh. Toris smiled, resuming his watch. He felt, rather than saw, Muscovy grow closer and closer in the void. He shivered.

"You cold, too?" asked Feliks, face still muffled in Toris' leg. Toris shook his head, then, realizing that Feliks couldn't see, replied aloud.

"No, I'm fine."

A beat.

"You worried about Muscovy?"

Involuntarily, Toris shivered again.

Another beat.

"He won't get to you," murmured Feliks. "Captain Kirkland won't let him… I won't let him."

Toris stared into the sky.

"Captain Braginsky doesn't take kindly to deserters." Toris replied at length. "He won't stop at any -"

"Neither will we. For serious."

"I don't want you to get hurt."

"That's totally cute, but I don't really care."

Silence.

Braginsky ruled Muscovy with an iron fist and a devoted corsair network. Did Kirkland really believe that he could sneak onto the planet unnoticed - and what's more, corner their _own_ quarry, Captain Bonnefoy, there?

Feliks shifted, turned so that he was staring into Toris' frightened, yet absolutely steely face. He reached a hand up to snake behind Toris' head, tangling it in his hair.

"Do you hate being a corsair that much?" asked Feliks, staring into Toris' emerald eyes.

"No. Not now that I'm here… I … not while I'm with you."

Feliks grabbed the back of Toris' neck and pulled him down into a kiss.

All was quiet on the privateer craft _The_ _British Empire_ as she sailed through infinity.


End file.
